


Marriage (Or Lack There Of)

by the_misfortune_teller



Series: Right Where I Belong [25]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (Alive Erica & Boyd), AU - Canon Divergent, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, bottom!Derek, domestic sterek - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_misfortune_teller/pseuds/the_misfortune_teller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow on Fic from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/588130/chapters/1057484">I'll Be With You Through The Dark</a></p>
<p>Stiles really isn't the marrying kind......</p>
<p>Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marriage (Or Lack There Of)

** (+15 years) People (the pack, their friends, his dad) keeping asking why they “still aren’t married”. **

“You still not thought anymore about it?” John asks guardedly over Remy’s head as she scribbles on a piece of paper.

“Anymore about what?” Stiles asks with a sigh, spooning more sweetener into his coffee and wondering why he ever banned his Dad from having real sugar in the house when it foams up. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that he knows what his dad is getting at and really isn’t in the mood to have that conversation again.

“Making it official. You and Derek.”

Yep, it’s that question. Again. Although to be fair to his dad, it’s been a good six months since he last asked.

“Yes Dad, I’ve thought about it. We’ve thought about it. It’s just not something either of us want,” Stiles replies, sitting down next to his Dad and smiling when Remy hands him a crayon. “I know he loves me, he knows I love him. We don’t need to have a stupid bit of paper to prove it.”

“You should think about it Stiles. You’ve got this little monster –“ he hugs Remy tightly, making her squeal, “ – and you already said the adoption people could get back to you any time about the new baby. Don’t you think it might be a good idea to make things more permanent?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well what about the tax benefits?” John suggests with a frown.

“Wow, you’ve totally changed my mind, Dad,” Stiles grins. “I’m going to run home right now and propose to Derek on the basis on _tax benefits_.”

“Don’t be sarcastic. I’m being serious.”

“It’s like you don’t even know me at all!” Stiles beams as Remy gives him another crayon. 

“Draw me a nelphant,” Remy demands, looking up at Stiles.

“Aww, peanut, you know I’m not good at drawing. Why don’t you ask Grandpop? He’s like, a world class elephant artist.”

“Thanks Stiles,” John sighs as Remy offers him a green crayon. “Sure you want a green elephant, Remy?”

Remy nods enthusiastically, leaning back against John’s chest and wedging her thumb in her mouth as he pulls another sheet of paper towards them.

**::**

“My Dad was asking why we’re not married again today,” Stiles grumbles, lifting Remy onto the arm of the couch and keeping one hand on her back so she won’t topple backwards. “Apparently there’s tax benefits we’re missing out on.”

“Oh well that changes everything,” Derek replies drily, grunting as Remy jumps on him. “Let’s get on the next plane to Vegas.”

“Gran’ Pop drew me a nelphant,” Remy interrupts, shuffling around and wedging herself between Derek and the back of the couch.

“It looked more like that ugly ass car Boyd drives.” Stiles adds, sitting down on the other couch. “He really isn’t any better at drawing than he was when I was a kid.”

“You don’t want to, do you?” Derek asks, raising his head slightly and glancing at Stiles.

“Want to what? Get married? I don’t think I do. Why? Do you?”

“Don’t know.”

“So why are you asking?”

“Daddy?” Remy asks as she lifts her head off Derek’s chest and looks over at Stiles.

“Yeah peanut?”

“You’d wear a dress.”

“Why would I wear a dress, Remster?”

“If you and Daddy get married.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Derek murmurs, sending a quick smirk in Stiles’ direction.

“That was a _costume_ party, that sort of thing is allowed at _costume parties_. Anyway, Isaac dressed up too.”

“I wasn’t complaining.” Derek grins rakishly, stretching his hand out and waggling his fingers until Stiles reaches over and laces their fingers together.

“The fact that me dressed as a zombie catholic schoolgirl does it for you is worrying.”

“I don’t seem to remember you complaining either.”

“Well you know me, if a costume results in potentially arrestable sex, I’m all over it.”

“Shh!” Derek hisses, nodding down at Remy who was absorbed in fiddling with the buttons of his henley.

Stiles smirks and squeezes Derek’s hand. “Yeah, like you don’t still have those pictures on your laptop.”

“Just stop saying inappropriate things,” Derek grumbles, pulling his hand out of Stiles’ grip. “You wanted me to propose once. That first New Years Eve we were together.”

“No, I was making a point about how into you I was at the time,” Stiles huffs, putting his feet up on the coffee table. “I didn’t _actually_ say ‘hey Derek, get down on one knee and propose to me’, did I?”

“I want to marry Isaac,” Remy pipes up, pushing herself upright and trying to clamber over Derek and off the couch.

“I think Isaac’s a bit too old to get married to you,” Derek tells her with a smile, watching as she shuffles down the couch and climbs over his legs. “Why do you want to marry Isaac?”

“My favourite,” Remy replies as she pulls a DVD off the shelf and holds it out to Stiles. He smiles at her as he gets up to put it on; Isaac isn’t just Remy’s favourite, he’s the favourite of all the pack’s children because he dotes on them all and spoils them rotten. Stiles is certain it’s got something to do with Isaac hardly ever seeing his own daughter but has never raised his theory with anyone, mostly because it makes him sad to think about it.

**::**

Three months later, Stiles is tossing and turning in bed, completely unable to get to sleep when he’s suddenly gripped by an idea; a wonderful, possibly incredibly stupid idea, but an idea none the less. He kicks the cover aside, and crosses quickly to the closet, pulling out a couple of bags and dropping them down beside the bed. He twitches the comforter roughly back into place because Derek’s kind of picky about that shit and starts shoving clothes into one of the bags at random before snatching up the empty bag and heading for the staircase.

“Come on,” He mutters, dropping the empty overnight bag into Derek’s lap as he leans on the back of the couch.

“Where are we going?” Derek frowns as he pushes the bag to one side and looks up at Stiles; Stiles leans down and whispers in his ear, taking a moment to nip at his earlobe.

“Really?”

“Sure, why not?”

“What about Rem?”

“We’ll bring her with us,” Stiles shrugs, grinning hugely.”Come on, hurry it up.”

Derek raises a sceptical eyebrow and looks at his watch, the watch Stiles bought him for his thirtieth birthday. “It’s1am.”

“So? We’ll get a motel half way there if we get tired. If you get tired, I guess, you’re driving.”

“Color me surprised,” Derek huffs, grabbing the bag and getting to his feet. He pauses to wrap one arm around Stiles’ waist and pull him in for a long, lazy kiss. “You sure?”

“Hell yes!”

Stiles smiles again as he watches Derek pad up the stairs, following him a few minutes later to get Remy out of bed.

::

Sixteen hours, and one slightly skeevy motel later, they’re standing in front of a white building, Remy perched on Derek’s left hip as they grip each other’s hands tightly.

“This is possibly the stupidest, most impulsive thing we’ve ever done,” Derek mutters, rubbing the back of Stiles’ hand with his thumb.

“Yep.”

“You definitely want to?”

Stiles looks at him, at the soft, happy smile on his face and their daughter, dressed in the skeleton costume they bought her for Halloween and she insists on wearing as often as possible that they couldn’t get her to change out of for love nor money and nods. He’s never been so sure of anything in his life. “Do you want to?”

“Yes,” Derek sighs, pulling him close and kissing him. The sudden movement disturbs Remy, and she yawns hugely as she wakes, rubbing her eyes and blinking sleepily at them both. Stiles leans over and gives her a kiss on the top of the head before taking a deep breath and leading Derek towards the building in front of them.

::

“You did what now?” John asks incredulously as Stiles fiddles around with Derek’s unnecessarily complicated coffee machine.

“You heard me, Dad. We got married.”

“You eloped, you mean?”

“Well, sure, if you want to get _technical_ about it...”

“Stiles,” John starts with a sigh; before he can continue with his lecture, Derek comes in the back door, crossing the kitchen and wordlessly pushes Stiles to one side, prodding at buttons. Stiles frowns when the machine starts merrily dispensing coffee: the stupid thing hates him.

“Hello, son-in-law,” John mutters darkly, turning his gaze from Stiles to Derek, and Stiles can’t help but laugh at the horrified expression on Derek’s face.

“It was a spur of the moment thing,” Derek replies quickly, looking desperately at the doorway to the hall.

“That much I can believe,” John sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Want to see the picture?” Stiles asks hopefully, holding his hand out to Derek until he grudgingly hands over his wallet. Stiles fumbles the picture out of it and passes it over to his dad, feels Derek lay a  comforting hand on the small of his back as he tugs out the small picture Derek’s taken to keeping in his wallet. They’ve got proper pictures on Stiles’ laptop but Derek’s wearing a ridiculously panicked expression on his face like he’s worried he might get arrested for marrying Stiles without asking permission from John first and Stiles hasn’t got the heart to leave him on his own.

“I suppose it’s not worth asking why Remy is wearing her skeleton costume?” John says with a fond smile, examining the photo closely. Stiles loves the photo, loves the way Derek’s got his eyes screwed up as he kisses Remy, likes the way he’s not even paying attention to the camera and is gazing adoringly at Derek. “Looks like fun,” John adds, his smile changing gradually from fond to sad.

“It was,” Stiles plows on, spinning his ring around his finger and grinning down at it. It’s his favourite new habit. “Vegas was awesome.”

“I’ll bet.”

Derek elbows him suddenly in the ribs, frowning at him and nodding subtly towards John, who’s staring down at the picture and it suddenly hits Stiles that his Dad looks absolutely heartbroken.

“Shit,” He blurts out, biting his lip when John looks up sharply at him and frowns, like Stiles isn’t a nearly thirty three year old adult with his own house and car and a _husband_ , Whatever. “Dad, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. It really was a spur of the moment thing! We weren’t deliberately not telling people –” He trails off and stares down at the kitchen floor.

“Remy,” Derek mutters, cocking his head towards the ceiling and rushing out of the room. Stiles looks up sharply and glares a his retreating back; he’d put good money on Remy having made no kind of noise what so ever and Derek just looking for an excuse to bust out of the kitchen and away from the awkwardness.

“Sorry,” Stiles murmurs, sliding into the seat opposite his Dad and fiddling with the salt shaker. “We should have told you.”

“I’m not mad you didn’t tell me,” John replies as he leans across and takes the salt shaker away from Stiles, putting it back where it should be before continuing. “I’m just upset I couldn’t be there. You’re my only kid, Stiles. I’d like to have seen you get married.”

“It wasn’t all that great,” Stiles tells him with a weak grin. “Rem had a tantrum half way through because I wasn’t wearing a dress and people are supposed to wear dresses at weddings. And I’m pretty sure the minister was hammered.”

“That all sounds very you,” John smiles, watching Stiles as he fiddles with his wedding band. “Do your friends know yet?”

“Nope. I don’t want to give Erica the satisfaction of knowing she was right about something.”

“Tell them,” John instructs, nodding down at Stiles’ wedding band. “Can I look at it?”

Stiles hesitates for a minute before pulling it off and handing it to his dad. His finger already feels weirdly empty without it, even though he’s only had it for two days. It’s identical to Derek’s, simple tungsten bands with their initials and a tiny triskele engraved on the insides.

“V, not S, huh?” John asks as he drops the ring back into Stiles’ outstretched hand. “Must be serious.”

“Damn straight,” Stiles grins, happily sliding his ring back onto his finger and admiring it casually.

“How are you going to break it to your friends?”

Stiles has to force himself not to roll his eyes, because even after fifteen years of being entirely aware of the existence of werewolves, his Dad is still slightly uncomfortable using the word ‘pack’.

“I don’t know, I guess we’ll have a barbecue or something,” Stiles shrugs. “Tell everyone then. You can invite that _nice lady_ you like from work.”

Before John can reply, or start making unreasonable barbecue related demands, they’re interrupted by Remy squealing as she runs across the kitchen floor, heading straight for John and clambering into his lap. Stiles leans back in his chair, looking from his Dad, to Derek, who’s leaning on the doorframe and smiling happily at him. Being married doesn’t feel all that different to not being married, but he definitely likes the shiny reminder on his finger.

**::**

“We need to have married person sex,” Stiles murmurs in Derek’s ear as he slides his arms around his waist and rests his chin on his shoulder.

“You’re going to try and convince me that _married person sex_ is somehow completely different to the sex we’ve been having for the last fifteen years, aren’t you?” Derek replies with disinterest, continuing to wash dishes.

“Maybe.”

Derek gives a snort of laughter and reaches up to squeeze his hand briefly. Stiles can’t stop the huge grin spreading across his face and presses a kiss against the back of Derek’s neck.

“Fine. How about we have ‘our demon child is with my Dad and I can fuck you senseless on the couch all night sex’ instead?” He slides his hands down Derek’s hip and traces his hardening dick through his sweatpants.

“Fine,” Derek repeats, letting the sink drain and sighing dramatically, like he’s doing Stiles a favor, or like being fucked senseless on the couch is a massive chore. Stiles grins at him, kissing him sweetly when he turns around and wraps his arms around his waist. 

Stiles ends up pushing Derek face down on the couch, holding his arms behind his back so he can’t get a hand around his cock. Restraining Derek like this is always a token effort, because it would take exactly no effort on Derek’s part to pull his hands free. He knows how much Derek loves it though, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the idea too. Plus, holding tightly onto Derek’s wrists means that he can see both their wedding bands as he slowly, torturously slowly fucks Derek, making gentle shushing noises every time Derek moans and begs for him to go faster, or to touch his dick.

Stiles ignores him, keeping up his slow pace until Derek comes with a loud cry, his dick still untouched as he slumps forwards slightly, spurting onto the towel that covers the couch. There’s something about fucking an orgasm out of Derek, of making him come without touching his cock once, that Stiles really loves and it takes less than a minute before he’s coming too, letting go of Derek’s arms and hurriedly grabbing hold of his hips to slam into him as his cock pulses. He flops forward, lazily sliding his hands up Derek’s back and massaging his shoulders, working out the tension and stiffness from where his arms have been pulled behind his back for so long.

“Married person sex is awesome,” He murmurs, giving Derek’s shoulders one last rub before pulling out and settling himself between Derek’s knees.

“There’s no difference,” Derek mumbles, his face buried against a cushion. He stretches out slightly and lifts his leg, kicking Stiles in the back. “It’s all in your head.”

“Whatever,” Stiles replies glibly, twisting around until he’s sat with one of Derek’s legs resting across his lap and starts slowly walking his fingers up the back of Derek’s thigh, running the flat of his palm across his ass cheek.

“Stop it,” Derek tells him sleepily. Stiles stills his hand for a minute then smiles when Derek opens his legs further, giving Stiles access. He moves his hand again, holding Derek’s ass checks open and smiling down at where his come is starting to slowly trickle out of Derek’s hole; that sight is definitely one of his favorites and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have a video of Derek’s post-sex ass hidden away on his laptop for _reasons_. He drags his thumb through the mess, feeling his cock make a valiant effort to get interested when Derek gives a thoroughly pornographic moan at his touch. He traces the ring of muscle with the pad of his thumb a few times before gently pushing two fingers inside of Derek, fingering him lazily until he kicks him in the back again and tells him to knock it off.

“I like being married to you,” Stiles sighs happily, slapping Derek on the ass and untangling himself from his legs. “Married sex is so much better.”

“S’no different,” Derek mumbles drowsily, shuffling around as he gets comfy on the couch. Stiles takes a moment to admire his naked body before wandering out of the room. They’ve still got until tomorrow morning before Remy comes home and Stiles has every intention of making the most of it. Derek can grumble all he likes. Married sex is _awesome_.

**::**

Their ‘hey, guess what, we ran off to Vegas and got married’ barbecue is a great success. His Dad invites Susan, the _nice woman_ from work, and very pointedly doesn’t flirt with her in front of Stiles. Stiles repays the favor by not even bitching at his Dad for eating four burgers and a half rack of ribs.

Erica corners him in the bathroom, barging in before he can lock the door and berates him for twenty minutes while he crosses and uncrosses his legs uncomfortably because he _really needs a piss_.

Boyd and Scott are both mad at them for not telling them sooner. Isaac later tells them it’s because they’ve all had a pool going for years on when they were going to get married.

_His Dad_ wins the fucking pool.

**Author's Note:**

> So originally I had never planned to have these two adorable idiots get married; I'm kind of thinking this might be the last in this series and that this is a nice bit of closure for them. Season 3 (the finale in particular) has really wrecked my head and I'm not sure if I want to carry on with this when so many of the details are completely wrong now! 
> 
> \--
> 
> [tumblr, yo](http://the-misfortune-teller.tumblr.com/).


End file.
